little talks
by Los Desperados
Summary: After Japan, Logan comes home. Post-Wolverine.


**status **complete  
**cover image **google  
**background **post-the wolverine  
**warnings **language, implied themes**  
notice **I have finals in five days. I went _twice _to the cinema for _Days of Future Past, _I watched all previous six X-Men movies in the past week and I read every piece of Logan/Storm fanfiction there is out there in these same few days. I am NOT okay. Why is it that inspiration hits you _only_ when you've got no time to pay attention to it? Is it like a conspiracy or something? Because it happens to me. Every. Single. Time. _Shit._ I think I'm kind of in love with Hugh Jackman, too. And while I think this is one of the best introvert pieces of fiction I've ever written, I got real lazy towards the ending. My apologies if it feels kinda rushed. Because it was.

* * *

**little talks;**  
_I've got a pocket full of kryptonite._

* * *

Quietly, Logan made his way to the balcony connected to Xavier's former office. Crossing the threshold, he paused for a moment to observe the lush vegetation surrounding the school facilities.

Nature had miraculously thrived after the Professor's death, especially in the general vicinity of the school grounds. Logan knew that the reason behind it was none other than Storm. Her mood would always affect her powers. Whenever she was feeling stressed, sad or hollow, the skies would open at her unconscious demand and unleash waterfalls.

His sight and smell told him that it hadn't rained in over a week, which meant that everything was going according to plan at the school. He knew Storm had a lot on her plate. After Xavier, Scott and Jean's deaths, it had fallen up to her to keep Xavier's dream alive and continue to offer shelter and guidance to mutants. And with Hank's permanent position in the Ministry and Logan running away without a word, she had no one to walk down that path with. If he had to, he'd bet that Bobby, Peter, Kitty, Warren and Rogue had had to step up from their place as seniors and help out as much as they could. After all, there was only so much they could do when it came to training and teaching the younger children.

Logan had often felt a pang of guilt at the thought of what he was leaving behind when he had climbed on his motorcycle that night, over two years ago. He knew he was an asshole for leaving Storm to pick up the pieces and lift the burdens by herself, when she was in no better position than himself, but he couldn't bring himself to stay a moment longer.

After killing Jean, he had mostly felt like he had lost the ground beneath his feet. Logan had never been lucky when it came to love, but Jean had truly stirred a need inside of him that he hadn't given any thought to in a very long time. To be honest, after losing both Kayla and his memory, having a chance at romance hadn't been on his priority list. But somehow Jean had managed to find a place in his heart, and maybe it was the fact that she was unattainable that made him want her so much.

However, now, after everything he had been through, he could say that loving Jean was the biggest fucking mistake he had ever made. It had brought him nothing but pain, on numerous situations and in various ways. Coming to Xavier's school and becoming an X-Man had probably been the best thing to ever happen to him. If only he hadn't been stupid enough to go and screw it all up by falling for the only person he shouldn't.

But two years of solitude and wallowing in self-pity, along with his little adventure in Japan, had made him realize where he truly belonged.

He was an X-Man. Not a wandering soul with no home and no purpose—not anymore. Xavier's _School for Gifted Youngsters_ was his home now, his purpose.

'Mutant and proud', he had heard Mystique utter once. And while he had never felt ashamed of his mutation, not even in the earlier years of his life (or as much as he could remember from back then anyway), he hadn't been proud of it either. After Stryker and the Weapon X project, he had tried to lead a quiet life, away from anything remotely connected to his mutant side. So what if there were others like him out there? He didn't care. He went places, worked jobs, met people, and lived a fairly satisfying life. And even if his mutation (or his temper) got him in trouble at some point, he could always pack up his trailer and venture off to another city, another state, and make a fresh start where no one knew him.

Xavier and the X-Men had changed that. They had changed his view of the world. Made him see the bigger picture; made him realize that there were things bigger than him out there—cause, purpose, visions, _family_.

Even though he and Victor had been attached to the hip for over a hundred years, he could safely say that he mostly tolerated his brother instead of truly enjoying his company. After all, you can't choose your family, and after running away from his home, Logan had been lucky enough to have Victor sticking by his side through it all. But Victor was crass, violent and bloodthirsty, and Logan had realized — thankfully before it was too late — that he didn't share those personality traits with his brother. And when Victor chose to hunt him down instead of accepting that, Logan knew that it was ultimately time to let him go.

The X-Men were radically different in that aspect. From the very first moment he had woken up in their lab, they had accepted him for who he was, despite being rather wary of him. Xavier had seen the good in him that he didn't even know there was. The loss of his memories with Kayla made him believe that indeed all he could ever be was a fucking asshole without a care for anything other than himself. But Xavier had taken him in and guided him, and Logan had found his way. Maybe not completely, not at first, but he knew better now. After all the mishaps and the failures, he had finally realized what he had to do with his life.

He had to live on and pay the debt he owed to his kind. He owed it to all of their fallen mutant brothers and sisters to fight to keep the rest of their kind alive. To fight for a society that didn't fear them or treat them as freaks and tried to eliminate them, but accepted them and didn't treat them any different from humans.

However, Logan didn't have any illusions. He knew that it was almost impossible to achieve something like that, even in the course of a lifetime as long as his, but he also knew that places like Xavier's school had given his fellow mutants a reason to hope. A reason to believe that their mutation was not a weakness but a gift, a reason to fight for a brighter future for their kind. The school had given them a home—had given _him_ a home when he had nothing. It had given them a family. A family that didn't discriminate and fought and cared for each other. And now Logan could see how important that was.

Breaking away from his musings, he averted his eyes from the greenery of the school grounds and brought them to rest on the other person on the balcony. He had known he would find her here; his nose was well-acquainted with her scent after all. He could easily track her through the shitload of mutants in the mansion.

Logan supposed that she would be mad that he grew the balls to return two years later, after leaving without notice. He hadn't even been considerate enough to leave a note, let alone talk to her in person. But his mental state at that time had bereft him of thinking straight. Not that he was trying to excuse his behavior, no. He was guilty beyond all charges. But he still wondered how Storm would take to his return, especially upon finding out its permanence.

It was kind of strange thinking about a person and trying to predict their reaction when they were standing a few feet away from you. But then again, they had always been kind of strange.

The two of them shared a history. They had fought Magneto and his Brotherhood, Stryker, and (regrettably) Jean back to back, making a better team that Logan never expected he would make with anyone other than Victor. They had been the ones to train Bobby, Kitty, Peter and Rogue and teach them how to make good use of their powers. They had managed to develop some sort of camaraderie between them, and other than the Professor, Storm had been the first person to earn his trust and respect.

And once upon a time, over two years ago, they had shared a fling, too.

It wasn't anything serious, as far as Logan could tell, at least at first. After Alcatraz, it had fallen to them to keep running the school. Luckily Hank had been responsible for dealing with the government and the press. And it had been a strenuous period for both of them. Storm was always busy, going about for this thing or the other, trying her best to hold everything together. On his part, Logan tried to do as much as he was able to. Dealing with the students on a daily basis and for several hours a day was not his forte, given his lack of patience, so he focused on the technical part of running the school.

It had been one of those late nights when it had first happened. He had been out all day, getting supplies and fixing the roof, while Storm had spent her own day over expenses and incomes and whatnot. It was a little after Christmas, and most of the children were away to spend the holidays with their families, which meant that the mansion was vaguely empty. He knew that Storm often experienced the empty nest syndrome in times like these, when the children left.

She had walked into the kitchen with her hair tousled and her otherwise pristine clothes in disarray. Logan watched her rummage the fridge for what he assumed was alcohol (_his_ alcohol), before speaking up and telling her where to find it. She hadn't been particularly surprised to find him lurking in the kitchen, but then again he always was nowadays. Downing beer after beer, trying to burn the image of Jean's dying face from behind his eyelids.

Storm had taken a seat next to him on impulse, clinging her bottle against his in a bitter toast as they fell into easy conversation. She was a very generous and sympathetic person, and while Logan was decidedly not, something had clicked between them that night. Maybe it was the common pain of Jean and Xavier's loss, maybe the shared burden of the school's responsibility, but when her hand had reached out to caress his forearm, Logan hadn't pondered much on semantics.

They had been drunk on each other as they climbed the stairs and slipped inside his room. They had clung to each other like lifelines, trying to stay afloat in a sea of guilt and regrets that were threatening to swallow them up. And as their slick bodies moved against one another, they allowed themselves to be consumed by the throes of their passion and forget the world outside.

Their trysts had continued for a few weeks after that night. And oddly enough, it had never been awkward afterwards. They had somehow managed to separate what was happening between them in the bedroom from what they struggled to build outside of it. They were partners in every sense of the word, trying to hold together a world that was falling apart.

There hadn't been any proclamations of love or even of mutual fondness between them, and so Logan hadn't felt complied to give her a heads up before tucking tail and leaving, when the nightmares and the guilt of killing Jean had become too overwhelming for even Storm to try and quell. But deep inside, after those few weeks of giving in to each other, Logan knew that the dynamic of their relationship had changed. And his late trek to Japan had made him realize that this was where he belonged; by Storm's side, fighting the good fight and protecting those mutant children when everyone else was out to get them.

And protect them, he would.

Logan pushed away from the threshold and came to a stand behind the white-haired weather goddess, allowing himself to take in the scent he had been missing for so long. He felt the light breeze die out suddenly, and the few clouds that were littering the sky gave way to the blinding sun. A tell-tale sign of Storm's shift in mood.

He took a leap of faith. He took a step forward and reached out to grasp her hand as he came to stand next to her on the large balcony. Storm didn't look at him, didn't offer any sign of acknowledging his presence beside her.

Logan's heart began to race and his mind took sharp turns. What if she hadn't waited? His mind raced through possible scenarios that didn't include a place for him in Xavier's school. And he suddenly realized that if she rejected him, then he had nowhere else to go. He had decided that this was his life now, but he wasn't the only one who had a say in that. He hadn't even considered the possibility of being rejected when he should have. He definitely should have. Strom hadn't waited. Storm _shouldn't_ have waited. She was an independent woman who didn't deserve an asshole who packed up and left in the middle of the night without a word and disappeared for two years.

He was pulled out of his thoughts when Storm weaved her fingers through his, her lips quirked upwards as she looked at him from the corner of her eyes. Giving him _that_ look—the one she always gave the younger children when she knew they were about to attempt a mischief. Only this time, _she_ was the perpetrator and _he_ was the victim.

"Took you long enough."


End file.
